Metabole. (Alfred Castner King Poems)
AN APOSTROPHE TO THE MOON.O, silvery moon, fair mistress of the night,Thou mellow, ever vaccilating orb,How many eons of unmeasured ...
AN APOSTROPHE TO THE MOON.O, silvery moon, fair mistress of the night,Thou mellow, ever vaccilating orb,How many eons of unmeasured ...
I stood at sunrise, on the topmost partOf lofty mountain, massively sublime;A pinnacle of trachyte, seamed and scarredBy countless generations' ...
What means this gathering multitude, Upon thy shores, O, Galilee,As various as the billows rude That sweep thy ever restless ...
I stood upon a crowded thoroughfare,Within a city's confines, where were metAll classes and conditions, and surveyed,From a secluded niche ...
St. Regimund, e'er he became a saint,Was much imbued with vulgar earthly taint;E'er he renounced the honors of a KnightAnd ...
DYING THOUGHTS.As Life's receding sunset fades And night descends,I calmly watch the gathering shades,As darkness stealthily invades ...
Within the precincts of a hospital, I wandered in a sympathetic mood;Where face to face with wormwood and with gall, ...
What anguish rankled 'neath that silent breast? What spectral figures mocked those staring eyes, Luring them on to Stygian mysteries?What ...
A MOUNTAIN NOCTURNEIn forest shade my couch is made. And there I calmly lie,With thought confined in pensive mind, And ...
There is the warm, congenial smile, Benign, and honest, too,Free from deception, fraud, and guile; The smile of friendship true.There ...
On the margin of a lakelet, In a rugged mountain clime,Where precipice and pinnacle Of countenance sublime,Cast their weird, austere ...
If I have lived before, some evidence Should that existence to the present bind;Some innate inkling of experience Should still ...
The fragrant perfume of the flowers,Exuding in the summer hours,E'en as the altar's incense rareDisseminated through the air,May never reach ...
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